The Night Stalker
by grey987
Summary: "I really thought that I had died. I really did." Rated M for disturbing content. You have been warned.


**AN: This is a oneshot sequel to my Creepypasta titled "Michael". I'm uploading it here because I'm too scared to go to that website again. I went in there and came out with (mental) scars that aren't going to heal. You can go check it out if you want; someone named sloshedtrain edited it in January 2013 and made it much more awesome (and horrifying). I may change the name of my character (therefore changing the story's title) in the future if I come up with a better name for him. Anyway, enjoy, and Happy New Year guys!**

* * *

**The Night Stalker**

* * *

I really thought that I had died. I really did. But, shockingly, I woke up sometime later, as if I was asleep. I also noticed something when I looked down at where I was stabbed. I wasn't bleeding. Sure enough, the knife was stuck through my chest, piercing through my skin and the bed's mattress. But there wasn't a pool of blood around me as I suspected. It was a good thing that Michael wasn't around at the time, otherwise he most likely would have tried to finish the job.

He's a psychopath now. He's not the younger brother I used to know. None of him is left now. The thought pains me, and angers me at the same time. I'm angry at myself for creating that monster. Now, I believe it's my responsibility to destroy my creation.

I grab the hilt of the knife, and give it a tug. I grunt, feeling a slight twinge. I'm not bleeding, but apparently I can still feel pain. Then, wanting to get it over with, I give the knife a sharp pull. The blade comes out of my body, but it doesn't feel as painful as I expected it to. Still, I feel quite a bit of pain. I look at the wound, which surprisingly closes up almost instantly. Then I come up with a hypothesis. I'm definitely not human anymore, I've become something more supernatural. I'm not exactly sure what caused it, but if I were to guess, I'd assume it'd be due to my exposure to Michael. This leads me to believe that in the times when he'd appear without the bandages covering his face, he had warped himself and I into another dimension, as silly as it sounds.

Anyway, my goal isn't to find out why I'm not entirely human anymore. My goal is to kill Michael.

* * *

After changing from my pajamas into a pair of black sweatpants and a red t-shirt and sweater, I leave my bedroom. While walking through the hallway, I stop in front of my parents' bedroom's doorway. As I suspected, my parents are dead. Even if I suspected so, I still let tears slip out of my eyes and down my cheeks, the reality of the situation worse than the possibility of dying that I faced when I looked into Michael's soulless eyes not too long ago. My sadness then conflicts with a blinding anger, and my fists clench tightly. I'm going to draw him out by any means necessary, and finish him off. By _any_ means.

* * *

I'm now walking out on the street, wearing a black parka over my red sweater and a black face mask. A light breeze passes by every now and then to accompany me, filling in the dead silence of the night. I need to be noticed by Michael, and to do that I need to kill someone. If I can, I should try to kill at least a few people. But first, I need to get away from my neighbourhood, so that I don't draw any suspicion there. It's better to be safe than sorry.

* * *

After a bit more than half an hour, I think I've gotten far enough from my neighbourhood to kill someone in the area. I stop in front of a random house, noticing that a room is lit by a TV on the first floor. I decide that I'll look around here. I creep around to the back of the house, and look through a window. I'm looking at the same room that I was looking at from the front of the house. I can see two people lying on a couch, kissing each other and looking like they're about to have sex. I guess they'll do.

I take out a kitchen knife I took from home from my jacket pocket, lean over to the left and tap loudly on the back door. I crouch down slightly so that my head isn't fully in front of the window beside the door, and I get the reaction that I desire. The man looks over, tells the girl something, then stands up and heads toward the back door. He actually isn't a man. Now that I've gotten a brief look at his face (now that I'm fully crouched under the window), he's a teenager who looks to be about 17 years old, though I can't really estimate an age. I'm leaning against the stone wall, my breaths becoming shallow as I grip the hilt of the knife tightly. The door soon opens and the teen is looking around, not noticing me pressed against the wall.

"Hello?" he calls out. "Is anyone there?"

As if to respond, I reach out and grab at the teen's mouth with my left hand. I pull him away from the door entrance and press my back against the brick wall beside the window.

"You should have stayed inside," I hiss, before stabbing him in the back with my knife. A muffled scream comes from out of my gloved hand, and he doesn't stop screaming. I stab him again in a different spot, and I feel him begin to relax. But then he stays slightly tensed and relaxed at the same time.

_To think he would be dead by now, _I think to myself, now stabbing the right side of his throat and slowly cutting around. I stop before reaching the centre of his throat and pull the knife out, continuing to grip the teen's mouth just in case. I hear him choke into my hand for a few seconds, then he completely relaxes and falls to the left of me, out of my grip. I examine the knife, and its blade is covered in blood that appears slick and dark in color.

"Jesse?" the girl calls out from the other room. "Are you there? What's going on?"

I hear light footsteps approaching. I've decided I'm going to have a bit of fun with this girl.

I stay where I am, not bothering to run. I can feel my control slipping away from me. The consciousness of a mindless killer replaces it, and, scarily, I like the feeling. The girl reaches the doorway, first looking right then looking my way, switching her gaze from Jesse's dead body to me. By the looks of it, she's about as old as him. Then she screams, and runs inside the house. I chuckle, following her inside of the house. I briefly see bare feet reaching the end of a staircase, telling me that she's run upstairs. I don't even bother to run after her, despite the threat of her calling the police. I naturally take long steps when walking, anyway.

I reach the second floor, and look around the hallway. I hear a door closing on the left side of the hallway, and I follow the sound to the far end of the left side of the hallway. I stare at the door for a moment, figuring out should torment her or just continue to come after her. But, my new consciousness tells me that I should torment her first. I slowly and rhythmically tap against the door several times with the end of my knife. I hear the girl scream, and I chuckle in a maniacal manner.

Suddenly, I hear something faint in my head. It sounds like a voice, but I push it aside, choosing to ignore it. I kick at the door, and it swings open as it disconnects from the thing that keeps it shut (I've never known what it is, to be honest). The girl screams for the third time in a row, huddled in a corner with her head tucked into her knees and her hands above her head. The sound of her scream is beginning to ring in my ears, and I don't like the feeling. I take several slow steps forward until I'm looming above her. I can hear her sobbing softly as I stand and stare at her. After a while, her hands wrap around her knees and she lifts her head slowly until we're looking each other in the eye.

"Please don't do this," she whimpers quietly. I lift my knife up and prepare to strike her in the head, the girl's eyes tracking my arm's movement, before something stops me. It's that voice again.

_Don't do it. She's innocent, _it says, and I feel guilty of my actions. My evil consciousness fades away, and I realize that I'm no different from Michael. But I still need to find him. That's when I decide that I'll only kill people who are corrupt, people who are completely void of any innocence. My arm drops lifelessly by my side, and the girl smiles at me. Wait, she's smiling at me? But what about her boyfriend? What about what I did to him? The smile stays etched in my mind, and I know this won't be the only time that I'll be asking myself the same question.

"Thank you," she whispers.

"You can tell the police about what I did if you choose to," I say quietly. "If they ask for any information about me, you are free to give it to them. I won't alter my appearance at all; I will be out more often, and I want people to know of my presence."

The girl looks confused at first, as if in thought, but then she nods. I turn to leave, before I hear her call out, "Wait."

I turn towards her, letting her know I'm listening.

"Who are you?"

I pause for a moment, trying to come up with a name for myself. Then I come up with one.

"Call me the Night Stalker." And with that, I leave the house and head back home to rest.

Yes. That will be my name, because I will torment those who _deserve_ to suffer. Then when I feel satisfied, I will put an end to their suffering.


End file.
